


Surprise

by aliatori



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff, M/M, Snowed In, soft Gladnoct ahoy, t-rated chu shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 22:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/pseuds/aliatori
Summary: Gladio gets more than he bargained for on a weekend of camping with Noctis.





	Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Gladio Fluff Week, Day 5: Snowed/Rained In  
> [inspired by this adorable doodle from @rex_clypeus on Twitter](https://twitter.com/rex_clypeus/status/1001592770501496832)

The only thing more surprising than Noct agreeing to a weekend of camping—Gladio thought no electricity for 48 hours would have outweighed the prospect of alone time with his boyfriend by a long shot—is the unexpected snowstorm that begins on their trek up to the Amicitia family cabin.

Their hike starts off on the right foot. Both of them are laden with the gear and supplies they’ll need, though Gladio carries the bulk of it—as he should, Noct had said as they were divvying up the loads from the trunk of the car, and Gladio hadn’t felt like arguing.

The fact that Noct’s the one who points out thick, grey clouds coalescing in the distance makes Gladio a little proud despite a flicker of concern. After all, he’s the one who’s been teaching Noct survival skills, and attention to weather conditions has been the subject of a lesson or two.

“How much longer do we have to go?” Noct asks, still gripping Gladio’s sleeve between thumb and forefinger where he tugged on it to get his attention.

“We’ve barely gotten started. Better buckle up and get ready to hustle, Princess, ‘cause we sure as hell don’t wanna be caught in the middle of this when it rolls over,” Gladio says.

“Never seen snow before,” Noct says quietly, more to himself than to Gladio. His gaze focuses on some point in the distance, lips slightly parted, a tiny crease between his eyebrows as they furrow in concentration.

Despite the knowledge that there’s not nearly as much snow-appropriate gear in Gladio’s pack as he’d like there to be, he’s almost glad about the freak occurrence.

He wouldn’t trade the subtle, sparkling wonder in Noct’s eyes for anything.

“Yeah, well, you’re about to see a lot of it. Hopefully from inside the cabin. C’mon.”

They continue their trek up the mountain. Noct’s sure footsteps make Gladio’s heart swell with satisfaction. Maybe he realizes he’s doing so, maybe he doesn’t, but Noct’s the one leading the way along the marked trail to the cabin, not Gladio. He hadn’t intended this to be an educational experience—heh, well… not for survival skills, anyway—so Noct’s confidence comes as a revelation. He’s probably just eager to get out of the cold. There’s a stinging bite to the air that wasn’t present before, a sure sign of an impending drop in temperature, and both of them are dressed for a mild fall day instead of a whirling snowstorm.

Gladio can already feel a certain sense of peace settling over him the further along they go. The only sounds are a mixture of man made and natural: the gentle clicks of the fishing rods Noct carries bumping together, the crunch of their boots against detritus strewn along the path, and the call of a far off bird filtering through the trees along the forested path.

Around the same time as the first specks of white begin to drift down from the sky, Noct falls back a few steps and takes Gladio’s hand. It feels as much of a gift as the whole weekend does—it’s rare for Noct to take the lead on things, personal or otherwise—and Gladio gives Noct’s smaller hand a firm squeeze of gratitude.

From there, the weather deteriorates rapidly. Visibility drops to next to nothing as snow begins to fall in thick swathes against a backdrop of grey. The conditions aren’t as bad as they could be, but Gladio knows that could change at the drop of the hat, so he begins to walk a little faster, Noct’s hand still tucked safely in his own.

“Wow,” Noct starts, his head turned towards a clearing to his left, “everything’s already so… white.”

Gladio hums an acknowledgement. “Snow does tend to do that. Y’know, ‘cause it’s ice. And it sticks.” He grins when Noct shoots him a petulant look.

“You don’t have to be an ass about it.”

“You know damn well I’m not being an ass. That _could_ be arranged if you’re in the mood, _Your Highness_ …”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Oh,” Gladio starts, intentionally dropping his voice half an octave, “you want me to bust out _those_ nicknames? Already?”

Noct’s replies by landing a soft jab against Gladio’s bicep with his free hand. Between his jacket and the awkward angle, it doesn’t hurt at all, and Gladio gives a quiet laugh in response. 

He doesn’t let go of Gladio’s hand, though, only holds it tighter in spite of the pink flush dusting his cheeks.

As the air becomes colder and colder, the snowfall becomes heavier and heavier, cloaking ground and forest alike in sheets of white, Noct stumbles on a couple of treacherous patches made slick by snow, but Gladio’s there to catch him each time, supporting him with a palm on his lower back or by pulling him up by their linked hands. Moments like these make Gladio feel in tune with Noct, connected, aware of his every need and movement. It’s what Gladio trained for, after all.

He’ll always be there to support his Prince, to catch him when he falls, to protect him from harm. It’s a promise sealed by heart and blood and oath alike. Gladio wears a scar to prove it and will wear as many more as the task demands.

A tug on his arm from Noct drags Gladio out of his sentimental reverie. The steepest portion of the trail was at the beginning; the terrain has leveled out for the last section of the hike, and it’s a good thing too, because the Glacian herself would be proud of the near-blizzard that’s overtaken them. They’re quiet as they hike, exertion robbing them of both the breath and attention necessary for conversation, the silence enhanced by the copious snowfall.

Noct stops in the middle of the path so suddenly that Gladio’s worried his arm might get wrenched from his shoulder. 

“Noct? You alright?” Gladio asks. “We’re almost there, but if you need somethin’...”

“I just need a sec,” Noct answers.

Puzzled but curious, Gladio waits and observes.

Noct’s frown straddles the line between disgruntled and adorable as he intently studies the sleeve of his coat. Several fat, white snowflakes linger on the fabric before melting away. One heartbeat passes, then two, and then three before Noct extends a gloved hand, palm facing upwards. They’re finally close enough to the cabin to see it, but Gladio continues to wait, sensing Noct teetering on the verge of a breakthrough.

“I think...” Noct begins, voice trailing off as his twilight blue eyes drift closed. There’s a tingle in the air, a tingle that sends a weird, tactile vibration through Gladio’s teeth as Noct invokes his Lucian magic. In the span of a breath, Noct conjures a handful of his own magical snowflakes—the handful rapidly condenses into what appears to be, to Gladio’s eyes, a plain old snowball.

Gladio’s about to tell him to knock this shit off so they can get warm and dry, but there’s a reverence to Noct’s expression that gives him pause. His eyes are open again, locked on his conjured creation, lips curved in a gentle, shy smile.

“I usually suck at ice magic. This is the first time I’ve been able to do much with it,” Noct says.

His Prince surprises Gladio again and again. He opens his mouth with the intent to congratulate Noct...

And gets a face full of snow instead.

That little _shit_. Gladio’s mounts a swift counterattack once his vision returns. It’s easy enough to scoop up the snow that blankets the ground; as luck would have it, the snow is wet rather than powdery, packing into a nice, round projectile to hurl at Noct. He lobs the snowball in Noct’s direction just as Noct conjures another one with magic. The satisfying _pumph_ as it explodes against Noct’s coat may as well be music to Gladio’s ears.

Noct laughs—an actual, honest laugh in his pleasant tenor—and the heat that spreads through Gladio’s body as he hears it could keep him warm for the rest of his life. Noct senses his distraction and chooses that moment to pelt him with another snowball.

From there, the fight devolves, their gear abandoned to the side, both of them laughing and ducking behind cover as they demolish each other with icy projectiles. Noct has the advantage by being a more compact target, but Gladio has way better aim and reach than Noct does. He tries keeping score—after all, there’s not much better than a little friendly competition—but he loses track somewhere during the fray, enjoying the moment for what it is.

When Noct calls for a halt by holding up a hand, Gladio stops, letting the snowball he holds loosely in one gloved hand drop to the ground.

Then Noct gives a wicked grin, tiny and sharp, and Gladio realizes his mistake.

The wind rushes out of his lungs in a rush as Noct’s body collides with his. Not for the first time, he curses the Glaive that tutored Noct in his warping ability, even if he did need to learn how to master it. Noct laughs again, high and bright, from his perch atop Gladio’s chest.

“Dude, you fall for that every time. Some Shield you are,” Noct gloats. His blue eyes glitter with mirth as he looks down at Gladio, hair damp from the snow, chest heaving as he catches his breath.

“Six, Noct, a Shield isn’t supposed to fend off attacks from his own charge,” Gladio says. Despite the admonishment, he wraps his arms around Noct, determined to make the best of his situation.

“Shouldn’t a Shield be prepared for _anything_?” Noct shoots back, parroting one of Clarus Amicitia’s favourite expressions. Gladio groans in mock dismay.

“Who could ever be ready for you, Princess?”

Noct’s eyes hold a fragment of something deep and inscrutable when he speaks. “You are. Most of the time.”

“Yeah,” Gladio agrees, “I guess I am.”

Noct bends down and kisses him then, his lips wet and cool from exposure to the weather, but feeling no less amazing for it. Gladio returns the kiss and deepens it, seeking out the warmth of Noct’s tongue with his own, licking into his mouth as his arms tighten around Noct’s body. He lets the rest of the world fall away as their lips meet again and again, gentle yet insistent; he forgets for a moment that he’s on his back in the middle of the forest, instead focusing on Noct, on the solid weight of him along Gladio’s body, of the taste of him on Gladio’s tongue, of the snow dotting his midnight black hair each time they part for breath. The languid exchange of kisses stirs a heat in him that has nothing to do with the weather.

“C’mon, Noct. We need to get out of this shit,” Gladio says, waving a hand in a circle beside his head.

“I dunno. This is kinda nice,” Noct says. The way the black of his pupils swallow the blue of his irises threatens to swallow Gladio as well.

“Dry clothes and a fire first. Then we’ll talk.”

In a rare gesture of acquiescence, Noct places a chaste kiss against Gladio’s bearded cheek. 

* * *

They make it to the cabin. Eventually.

After Noct lights the fire—with magic and _not_ how Gladio taught him, prompting a brief lecture on the importance of self-sufficiency—they start to strip out of their cold, wet, soggy layers.

That’s when Gladio receives his final surprise.

He turns to take Noct’s pants from him so he can hang them on the back of the chair placed in front of the fire for that purpose. The last thing he expects is to see Noct wearing only a pair of bright pink boxer briefs, skulls peppered along the fabric and the word “KING” printed along the waistband.

“Shit. I thought you hated those,” Gladio says. He’s trying to focus on the task at hand, he really is, but Noct clad in only skin and a gift from Gladio is starting to damage his composure. “Was pretty sure you burned ‘em as soon as I gave ‘em to you.”

Noct mutters an unintelligible collection of syllables as he stares at the floor. Heedless of his own need to find some damn clothes before he freezes—he’s down to his boxers too, though his are plain black and way less cute than Noct’s—Gladio makes his way towards Noct, drawn to him as though by magic.

“Say again?”

“Kept _wanting_ to wear them. Always backed out at the last second. No chance to back out today,” Noct mutters.

“They look fuckin’ fantastic. Astrals, _you_ look fantastic.”

A dark pink blush floods Noct’s cheeks. “You look pretty okay yourself, big guy. Now stop staring and get me some dry clothes.”

Gladio takes Noct’s chin in his hands and gently tips it upward. “I could do that… or we could warm up another way…” He doesn’t break eye contact with Noct as he speaks. “After all, we’re gonna be stuck inside until the storm passes. Lots of hours to occupy.”

“You’re the worst,” Noct says, but he lifts his arms up towards Gladio’s neck.

“You love me.” Gladio squats and grabs hold of Noct by his thighs. When he stands, Noct comes with him, arms and legs wrapped around him in a familiar tangle.

“Yeah,” Noct says, head resting against Gladio’s chest, “I guess I do.”

Gladio laughs and makes his way towards the bed with Noct in tow.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated if you enjoyed. <3
> 
> [Darlin' Rex](https://twitter.com/rex_clypeus) over on Twitter drew some [lovely, breathtaking art for this fic which you can find here](https://twitter.com/rex_clypeus/status/1002634893019566080). Please check it out and show it some love (if you haven't already)!
> 
> Come find me living the Gladiolus Amicitia appreciation life over on [Tumblr](http://aliatori.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/AliatoriEra).


End file.
